Mind Puddles
by scullyseviltwin
Summary: A little jaunt through the mind of Trinity. A mood piece.


Title: Mind Puddles  
  
Author: ScullyAsTrinity  
  
Rating: G  
  
Summary: A little jaunt through the mind of Trinity. A mood piece. Please read and review. PLEAAAAAASE R&R!?!?!  
  
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It's amazing what you miss when you can't have it.  
  
It's the rain, the sound of it. The aroma that is created when it mingles with the dry leaves and dirt of autumn. Mostly, I long for the feeling of the wet drops on my face. They were cool pinpricks infinitely numbered, hitting headed skin in rapid succession. The would startle me awake or lull me easily to a light sleep. I'm sure rain has not changed in the short time I've been here.  
  
Rainfall was one of those inconvenient bleeps o the Doplar radar indicating an upcoming bad hair day. Not that I had much hair to manage. When I stepped outside my door that water left a light sheen on my skin that left me feeling greasy for the rest of the day. Feelings of dread juxtaposed with feelings of mirth would wash over me when I would look out the window ad see the ominous little rain clouds loitering in the sky. I would immediately recall how oily I felt when the drops dried on my skin. The tail ends of my pants would always end up soggy and dirty, the run-off from it soaking my stockings. I hated getting stuck in the downpour when my key wouldn't work in the lock, or I had to wrestle to get my mail out of my tiny mailbox. That's when I disliked the rain more than anything.  
  
It's safe to say rain and I had a love/hate relationship.  
  
The sound of it soothed me to sleep. sometimes. Pitter-patters on a window pane and soft "plunk"s in the run-off gutters. The litany of the rain would lull me towards the land of dreams and I would either awake to find a brightly sunny day or just more rain. On the days when I woke to the sun, the previous night's precipitation would be praised as my muscles stretched and smiled, awaiting my day.  
  
When I was in the rain on purpose, I was there to feel it. The familiar greasiness was ot there when I wanted to cherish it. IT would sluice and slide, drip and settle, carrying with it a brief refreshment as well as copious amounts of stress relief. Better than a shower, because you didn't have to get undressed. There weren't any rules. Stepping into the rain shower fully clothed was a rush.  
  
I can't escape here. The only shower I get is the ne I ca squeeze in between all of the duties I have to perform on and off the ship. I miss the rain like I miss the peace and quite of a good snowfall.  
  
Snow itself is a simple wonder. Small, crystallized diamonds being sifted gently to the ground like cold flour. As it blankets the ground, it brings with it a sort of bizarre stillness. Not even on the quietest summer nights in the city would one be able to find a peace that peaceful.  
  
Those were the days that would start off wonderfully. When I would wake and rise from my bed only to get a whiff of the cold bite of winter in the air. The snow was coming and I could sense it. That was a lovely feeling of anticipation. To run to the window from time to time to see if anything was falling from the sky yet. Often times, snow would start out like a sprinkling of powered sugar. Other times, white chucks would fall from the sky and create a brown slush on the ground which would eventually solidify into ice. I fell on that ice more than once, but it didn't take away from the wonder of it all.  
  
How the world could be silent for hours, just like a homage to the frozen precipitation that fell from the sky.  
  
The sensations that I felt when it touched upon my cheeks, stood on my eyelashes. the cold rush of feeling completely serene. Those were moments that everything was right with the world. Those were moments when it was okay to switch off my computer module and stand on my balcony and just be. Just feel.  
  
Atmospheric occurrences often made me wish that where I was felt real. That I could magnify those moments when I felt cold and wet, that I could feel my emotions so vividly as I did then. Needless to say I cannot, and though I do long for the pleasantries of being in the Matrix, being where I knew what I had to do, being here, being real is much more emotional that I ever dreamed it to be. It's harder. Harder than doing tax returns, harder than evading the government, harder than making instant rice that isn't so instant.  
  
But sometimes when I sleep, sometimes I can feel the rain pour down on me and. I wake up. 


End file.
